Small Bump
by AndKatnissRaisedHerBow
Summary: You're just a small bump, unborn.../ My take on what would have happened, had Rosie and Marco not lost the baby.
1. Chapter 1

"Marco!" Rosie called from her bedroom. "Where are my boots?"

Marco sighed from hisplace in the living room, where he was waiting for her to finally emerge.  
"Right here," He said, appearing in her doorway with the beloved combat boots.

Rosie stopped scurrying around the small room and turned to him, her eyes lighting up. "Thank you," she said quickly, snatching the shoes from his grasp and standing on tiptoe to peck his lips before finally pulling the boots on.

Leaning against the doorframe, Marco waited patiently. He knew how nervous she was. Today was their first ultrasound together. Rosie had gone to the very first appointment alone, right after she discovered she was pregnant, but there wasn't much to tell then. Now, they're get to actually see the baby, maybe even know it's sex if they were lucky.

After lacing up her second boot, Rosie lifter her head to look at him - "Ready?"

He nodded, turning and heading for the door, waving to Rosie's roomates as she assured them that she'd text them as soon as they knew anything.

The drive to the doctor's office seemed to go on forever, though in reality it only lasted twenty minutes or so. Rosie spend the entire drive nervously drumming her fingers on the armrest, asking the Marco the occasional question.

When the finally arrived, Rosie signed herself in, and they sat down to wait.

Marco took Rosie's fidgeting hand in his own, "Excited?" he half-heartedly teased, his blue eyes were lit up, showing he was just as anxious as she was. The petite girl smiled up at him, and opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by the nurse walking into the room. "Rosie Brennan," she lifted her eyes to look at the couple as they stood, "You ready sweetie?" Rosie nodded. "Come on, then."

The two stood in front of the nurse, a plump woman with dark skin and long, curly hair. "You must be the daddy," she said, looking at Marco, who smiled back at her, almost blushing. "Yes, I'm the daddy." The words were new to him and felt unfamiliar, and the thought of raising a kid still scare the hell out of him, but he'd be lying if he said that he wasn't excited by the idea.  
Rosie beamed up at him, her thoughts mirroring his own.

The nurse grinned at them, "Y'all make a really cute couple,"  
She'd noticed the lack of wedding bands, and couldn't help thinking that they were awfully young, but still, the kids warmed her heart.

She led them down the hall, and into a small room where Marco helped Rosie onto the examining table. They nurse took down their information and asked a few questions, then let with her clipboard and told them to doctor would be with them in a few minutes.

After an excrutiating wait, a young blonde doctor appeared in the doorway, introducing himself as Dr. Johnson.

"Alright, Ms. Brennan, let's get started." he said walking, over to her. "If you would pull up your shirt, please." Rosie smiled semi-uncomfortably as she did so, and Marco noticed again that she was beginning to show.

"This is gonna be pretty cold," The young doctor said as he squeezed the blue-ish gel onto her sensitive skin. Rosie jumped as soon as it made contact, her hand instictively flying over to grasp Marco's arm, as he chuckled softly at her.  
She shot him a half-hearted glare, but ended up smiling back at him anyways.

"Okay, here we go," They both looked up at the screen, giving it their full attention, and watched as the fuzzy image of their child came into view.

"Oh my God," Rosie breathed, her eyes wide. She glanced at the boy by her side and found him to be in a similar state. Their eyes met for a shot moment, both completely in awe of what was in front of them. This baby was no longer just an idea, a plan. It was a person, a tiny little person, and they could hear it's heartbeat and in a few months she would feel it kick. It was both terrifying and thrilling all at once.

"Can you tell us yet if it's a boy or a girl?" Rosie asked, suddenly feeling the need to no longer refer to the child as 'it'. Both men in the room could hear the tender happiness in her voice.  
The doctor slid the wand around her exposed stomach, attempting to find a better view.

"It looks like it's a little early to tell," he said apologetically.  
"That's okay," Rosie murmured, looking over at Marco again as he brought her hand to his lips, placing a tender kiss between her knuckles. His eyes never left the screen.

"Everything's fine, and your child looks to be growing at the right pace." The young blonde man spoke, and Marco and Rosie nodded. "It's heartbeat is strong, and I don't see any redflags for anything. It's a little hard to tell at this point, but it looks like in a few months you'll have a healthy newborn on your hands. Not just let me print out some pictures for your two."

He flicked off the monitor, throwing a sorry glance over his shoulder.

As the printer whirred, Marco slid his arm around Rosie's shoulders, and she leaned against him, completely comfortable. She had tears in her eyes.

"How are you doing, mommy?" Marco asked quietly, a teasing lilt to his voice. Rosie giggle lightly as she brought a tapered hand to up to wipe her eyes.  
"Excited," she said simply as he kissed her temple, and the doctor walked back over, carrying a few prints of thier baby. He handed them to Rosie, who smiled gratefully to him.

"I'll see you two back here in a month." he said, and they both nodded. "Y'all have a nice day,' he added over his shoulder as he walked out of the small room, leaving the door open for them to follow.

Later that night, after they'd made and eaten dinner, wherein Rosie loathed Marco for having a celebratory glass of wine she knew she couldn't have, they were sitting alone on the couch. Courtney and Molly, Rosie's roomates, had already gone to bed, and they had the small apartment to themselves.  
Rosie was curled up against Marco's side, and he was idly combing his fingers through her hair while they flipped through the channels on the TV, before settling on some old movie that looked vaguely interesting.

Rosie sighed, reveling at how perfect everything felt right in that moment. She had been sure it would've been an utter disaster, but Marco had been a drea. Sure, they had fought from time to time, but it never lasted longer than a few minutes and then they were back to their usual banter. She had never been one to show much emotion, but she'd be the first to admit that she couldn't help but love Marco's simple little shows of affection. Everything from the arm he kept secured around her waist at almost all times, to the tiny kisses he was constantly stealing. She loved all the little habits and quirks that made him up. Like how he murmured quiet nothings in his sleep, and how he never ate the green M&Ms. Or the way he smelled, a mix of his body wash, the light scent of his after shave and something else that she couldn't quite place. She loved the way her tiny body seemed to fit perfectly under his arm, and how the shirts she wore were always so soft against her cheek. She could go on for days if you'd let her, not that she'd ever actually say any of this to Marco. She'd never live that down.

Rosie was broken from her thoughts when she felt his gaze on her. She looked up to find his brilliant blue eyes locked on her. She met his gaze, her fingers reaching out to toy with his hand. "What is it?" she asked, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Nothing," he replied quietly. "You're just beautiful."


	2. Chapter 2

Pink. Way too much pink. Everywhere Rosie looked, there was yet another shade of the soft hue. Groaning, she picked through another rack of tiny clothes.  
"No, no, no, _no._ God, why is it all so damn _pink_?!" Irritated, she flicked her bangs away from her face. She just wanted to be done with this.  
"Maybe because that's what normal little girls wear? You know, the whole 'It's a girl! Have a pink balloon!' thing." Marco quipped at her side, where he was scraping at the bottom of a small cup of frozen yogurt.

Shooting him a glare for what had to be the fifteenth time that day, her eyes caught a small section of dark colored fabric. She darted over to it, suddenly overjoyed to have found something suitable for a child of hers. "Aha!" She was grinning triumphantly as she showed Marco her trophy, a small black onesie with a ladybug stitched onto the front. After scanning the rack, she laid eyes on another tiny outfit, this one grey with the word 'Heartbreaker' printed in purple script.

"You look like you're having fun," Marco chuckled, throwing away his cup as she thrusted a handful of similar garments into his arms, scurrying away to where she'd noticed a black and red sheet set for the crib. He followed her with the small shopping cart, looking on with an amused expression as she jumped, trying to grab a purple bear that was just out of her reach.

He smiled and his blue eyes twinkled as she finally managed to grasp the plush toy, turning to him with a victorious grin. Her white tanktop was stretched out over her round belly, which seemed to be getting bigger every day. Four months. Just four more months and their lives would be indefinitely changed. They'd have a beautiful baby girl on thier hands.

Rosie was almost waddling when she walked now, and she looked like she was hiding a pillow under her shirt. She hated that she was losing her figure, and had told him several times that he owed her for doing this to her body. But Marco found her appearance endearing. He'd never have thought it, but the closer they got to having the baby, the fonder he was of the idea of being a father.

Rosie, however, was more scared than she would like to admit. The thought of giving birth terrified her, and she didn't know if she could handle being a mother. The idea of a child, a human being, relying solely on her at all hours of the day terrified her on every level. She never allowed herself to dwell on that feeling for very long, but there were times when it broke through the walls that stood tall in her mind. There were times when she sat on her bedroom floor in the mornings, a crumpled crying mess, frustrated at the fact that none of her clothes fit anymore and the stretchmarks were just so _ugly_. Times when she yelled and screamed at herself for letting this happen.

But there were also times when she thought of the moment she'd finally get to hold her daughter in her arms, and she was just so thrilled that she couldn't do anything but smile and run a hand over her stomach as she whispered to the child growing inside her.

Now, though, while she scanned through two dozen different cribs for the fourth time, she was just tired. Her back was aching and her feet felt as if they'd been pumped full of iron. Her wavy hair was falling out of the messy ponytail she yanked it up in earlier, and every once of excitement she'd felt upon finding a wardrobe for the baby had been drained from her.

"Hey," She heard Marco say, "If we get this one, we can get her name carved into it."  
Rosie laughed dryly, "First, she'd have to _have_ a name, Marco."

It had been five months, but they had yet to come up with a name they both agreed on. Rosie made a mental note to pick up one of those baby name books before they left the store.

"We can't call her Peanut forever," She added, referring to the nickname he'd given the unborn child not long after she told him about it.  
"Why not? I think it's cute."  
"Hmm," A small smile graced her features, but she never turned her head to look at him, clearly distracted by the many tiny beds in front of her. This shouldn't be so hard.  
Walking up behind her, Marco snaked his arms around her middle, his hands splaying out across her tummy. "Babe, you're tired. Shouldn't we just call it a day?" He asked, his voice was low and gravelly and if she wasn't so exhausted she might've found it incredibly seductive. But now, she only took comfort in it.  
"_Marco_, we still need a crib and a carseat." Her tone was whiny and she knew it, but she didn't care. Her parents had surprised her when she told them, and had offered to furnish the entire nursery. They had been more supportive than she could've ever imagined, and they knew she'd been putting off shopping for the nursery for a while. Even then, she would've gladly gone home with Marco right then, but they were going apartment hunting later that week and she wanted to have mostly everything they'd need for the baby by the time they moved in.

"Well, then how about... That one?" He pointed to a simple white crib. "White goes with everything, right?" Rosie couldn't argue his logic, and failed to think of a reason as to why that one wouldn't work.  
Waving her hand dismissively, she shrugged. "Sure, whatever."

They picked out the carseat in much the same manner, with Marco suggesting one and Rosie being too tired to argue. They made it through the seemingly endless line at the checkout, and an employee offered to help Marco get everything into the car. After a long day, Rosie washed her face, slipped into her pajamas and climbed into bed with Marco, fitting herself snugly against his side.

It had taken her several weeks to let herself sleep next to him like that. After he moved in, they'd slept on different sides of the bed, or he'd take the couch. It was ironic, since she was already carrying his baby, yet was uncomfortable with even holding his hand sometimes.  
But then one night, she'd been upset. About what, neither of them really remembered, but she'd fallen asleep cradled in his embrace. The next night, she'd bashfully laid her head on his chest before she flipped the lamp off.

Then, she'd easily been able to snuggle up to him, her thin body fitting right up beside him. But now, it was a little more awkward, with her baby bump getting in the way. Marco didn't seem to care, though, and Rosie was still comfortable.

Once she was settled between the sheets, he gently ran a hand over her belly, repeatedly rubbing circles over her adbomen. A chill swept over her when his hand ventured to her sides, then travelled down her thighs. And suddenly, she didn't care that she was tired, or that her roommates were trying to sleep right on the other side of the wall. She didn't care that her baby bump might get in the way, all she knew was that right then, she wanted him so badly it hurt.

Marco was hesitant at first, worried it could hurt the baby, but she convinced him it would be okay. And, frankly, he wanted her too.  
He was gentle with her, and her belly did make it a little awkward, but it didn't make a difference to either of them.

After, she leaned against him as they both caught their breath. Within a few short minutes, her eyelids were drooping, her from earlier exhaustion setting in again. Marco eased her down and covered them both with the blanket they had tossed away. Right before she slipped away into dreamland, she whispered something he'd been dying to hear her say for months.  
"I love you..." Her voice was thick with sleep and if it wasn't for her breaths on his chest he might've thought he'd imagined it, but those three tired words meant more to him than anything in the world. Smiling to himself, he kissed her forehead, "I love you, too. Goodnight, Rosie."

That night, when he murmured in his sleep, it wasn't his usual uninterpretable nothings. That night, had anyone been listening, they would've heard him say the same five letter word over and over, the name of the girl he was entirely sure he was in love with.

To be honest, I kind of hated this chapter, but I thought you guys deserved an update for being so great about the first chapter(: So here it is!  
If you have anything you'd like to see happen, suggestions are always welcome. I know where I want to go with this, but there's some room for filler ^.^

Reviews make for quicker updates(;


	3. Chapter 3

"Rosie... Rosie, wake up." Marco tapped her shoulder, nudging her slightly as she gave no signs of waking. "Rosie," He cooed in a sing-song voice, dropping a kiss on her nose, then between her eyes, "Rosie, come on, you've gotta get out of the bed," She groaned, finally showing a sign of life, and rolled over, putting her back to him.  
"Leave me alone," Her voice was thick with sleep, and still too tired to be as threatening as she probably meant for it to be. He chuckled, nudging her shoulder one more time before lifting her shoulders to slide in behind her, placing her head in his lap, discarding her pillow. He brushed the hair away from her face, and she still kept her eyes closed, a look of determination taking over her features.  
"Marco," Her tone was warning, "Go away." She mumbled through gritted teeth.  
"Come on, Ro. I made breakfast!" Through her still closed eyelids, Rosie rolled her eyes at his cheery attitude.  
He was poking her shoulder again, and Rosie came to the bitter realization that this was a fight she couldn't win. She cracked an eye open to see his blue eyes looking down at her. "Stop hovering," she commanded, "I'm getting up, alright?"  
Dropping one last tiny kiss onto the tip of her nose, Marco easily slid out from under her, making himself comfortable on the other side of the bed. Shooting him a few nasty looks, Rosie got to her feet and made her way to the small bathroom, snatching up a pair of jeans and a sweater on the way.

She emerged several minutes later, her naturally curled hair tied up in a messy bun and the off-white sweater stretching to accomodate her ever-growing belly. She was six months along now, and looked as if she were hiding a small basketball under her shirt.  
"You know, your breakfast is probably cold now." Marco remarked as she walked (waddled) past him, into the kitchen of their apartment.  
They'd found the place after only a few hours of looking. It had a master bedroom, a good sized living area, a kitchen that was smaller than what either of them were used to, but would have to work, and a second bedroom that they were converting into the nursery. It wasn't much, but it would do. It was big enough for them and they baby, and they could afford it.

In the kitchen, Rosie put a small portion of the eggs and bacon he'd made onto a plate, and sat down at their small table. Marco sat down opposite her, making a few comments about how she should probably eat more, seeing as she was feeding two now. Rosie stuck her tongue out at him, telling him to mind his own business. It wasn't that the food wasn't good, she just never had much of an appetite in the morning anymore.  
"You_ are_ my business," Marco smirked at her, abandoning his plate to walk over to her. He was used to her snappy moods in the mornings now, and it didn't bother him. But still, he wished she'd smile.  
Coming up behind her, he brushed her hair away from her shoulder, moving the neck her sweater around to brush his fingers over her pale skin. Rosie leaned into his touch, and he moved to massage her shoulders. She let out a small contented noise, closing her eyes as a small smile found it's way to her lips. After a few minutes, Marco's hands stilled and he leaned down to press his lips to the top of her head.  
"I could sit here with you all day," He said, his hands moving up and down her arms, "But your mom might not like that."  
Rosie groaned, "Do we really have to go?" They were supposed to visit her parents that day. It was a long drive, and no one would want Rosie travelling for so many hours in a few more weeks.  
"Yeah, babe. I think we do," He smiled at her, helping her into a standing position and letting her lean against him for a few minutes, clearly still stalling. She didn't mind seeing her mom, but her dad had thrown ten fits when she told him she was pregnant. That had been several months ago, and she hadn't seen them since. The last thing she needed was to have to sit through endless lectures about marriage and sex and kids and responsibility.  
"Come on, Ro," Marco lightly pushed her towards the door, scooping up her purse and both their jackets. Rosie groaned again, but reluctantly followed him, pouting the entire time.

After spending several hours in Rosie's beat up Civic, Marco parked in her parent's driveway. It was three o' clock in the afternoon, and the sun was out, but it wasn't enough to fight off the chill of the wind. Marco stretched once out of the car, and chuckled at Rosie, who was having some difficulty stretching herself. She shot him a glare when she noticed his amused expression, but quickly sombered when she looked back at the house. Clutching Marco's hand, an almost panicked expression came over her. Sending a nervous glance towards the boy beside her, she wiped her the expression from her face, and dragged him to the door.

Before they could even knock, Rosie's mom, Carol, had flung the door open and it was just a flurry of hurried kisses, hugs, and 'Oh my!'s. After what felt like several minutes of that, she led them both inside. Rosie's father was in the living room, watching TV with a blank expression when she hesitantly walked up behind him.  
"Hi, Daddy," She said, her tone a jittery mix of nervous energy and sheepish happiness at seeing him. He turned to face her with a smile on his face, but she didn't miss the way it faltered, if only for a second, when he noticed her belly. He wrapped his arms around her in an awkward hug, and then turned to acknowledge Marco's presence.  
Rosie could see the remnants of her father's anger in his eyes, and darted back to Marco's side before anything could be said. Holding onto his arm almost protectively, she gave him a reassuring look, then turned her attention back to her father.  
"Daddy, you remember Marco, right?" Her dad was still stiff, but nodded and stuck his hand out to the young man that had once been a boy playing on the lawn a few houses down. "How you doin', son?" Marco nodded to the older man, shaking his hand and responding that he was good. Rosie wanted to march right back out to the car with him and drive away. The tension in the room was palpable. This was the first time she'd brought him around, when she broke the news to her parents she'd insisted she go alone, seeing as her dad would have probably strangled Marco then and there. She was pleased with her father for being calm, but she could see the gears turning in his head.

Her mom jumped in before Rosie could think of anything more to say. "Jerry, did you know Marco is a cook? On a food truck, just like our Rosie." She knew her mother was grasping at straws, but Rosie went along with it anyway.  
"Yeah. We, uhm, wind up on the same truck line a lot." A wave of nausia swept over her, and she wasn't sure if it was because of the baby or her sheer anxiety in that moment. "He, uh, he's a really good chef, Daddy." She tightened her grip on his arm, leaning her head against his bicep. She looked like a bashful teenager and she knew it, but she didn't really care at this point. Marco glanced at her, his blue eyes meeting her's for a short moment, before she spoke up. "Not as good as your daughter, though, sir."  
The older man managed a kind of crooked half smile at the boy, but said nothing. Rosie's mother jumped in again, suggesting they all come to the kitchen for a glass of sweet tea. Rosie, glad for the distraction, tugged Marco away, following her mother.  
"Dont' worry, Ro. It's fine. He can't hate me _that_ much." He smirked at her, and she swatted his chest, finally letting go of her hold on his arm. "Shut up," Was all she offered in way of a reply.

Rosie's dad stayed in the living room, asking his wife to simply bring him his tea. After doing so, Rosie, Marco and Carol stood around the spacious kitchen making small talk. Rosie's mom went on about how she couldn't believe Rosie was so big already, and joked that she wasn't ready to become a grandmother yet. Her mom liked Marco, he was nice and attractive, he had a decent job and he treated Rosie right. Sure, the circumstances weren't perfect, but she was pleased to see that the two were making things work, and were genuinely happy together.

When they'd drained their glasses, Marco said he was going outside to get their bags from the trunk. Rosie stifled a groan, remembering that they'd agreed to stay the night, as her parents didn't want them out on the road so late. She told her mother she was going to help him, and after being reminded not to try and pick up anything too heavy, she followed Marco out the door.  
As soon as they were out the door, Rosie got right to it. "So, my dad hates you." she said. "But I think my mother may be in love with you." Marco cocked an eyebrow as he walked. "Oh, come on." Rosie rolled her eyes at how dense he could be sometimes. "She was totally fawning all over you." Giggling at him, she picked up a few of the lighter bags from the trunk of her car.  
"Of course she loves me," Marco quipped. "I'm pretty much perfect." He said matter of factly. Rosie let out a sarcastic "Ha.", laughing at his false surprise. "What?" His eyes were wide as he brought a hand to his chest, feigning his shock. "You seem to be pretty fond of me," He winked this time, setting the second, and last, larger bag onto the concrete pavement on the driveway. Taking one in each hand, they made their way back towards the door.  
"Seriously, though." Rosie said, her smile still lingering on her lips. "How are we going to make it through an entire night here? Can't we just get a room at a hotel and leave in the morning?" She was almost pouting now, and already sounded exhasperated.  
"I wish we could, Rosie. But your parents want to spend some time with you, babe. They haven't seen you in months." She pouted at him again. "And cut your dad some slack," He added, surprising her just a little bit. She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to continue. "If some guy my daughter barely knew knocked her up, I'd be pissed as hell, too." He winked at her again, chuckling lightly, but Rosie hadn't missed the protective edge in his voice, and knew he was thinking of their daughter. She'd never admit it, but she loved this fatherly side of him that was peeking out more and more often recently.

Leading him back inside the house, Rosie showed Marco to her childhood bedroom, where they both dropped their bags. They'd realized that they probably wouldn't be sleeping in the same room, but Marco said he'd leave his bag there until they figured out the arrangements.

They walked back into the living room, where Rosie's parents were waiting, it was almost five now, and they'd made plans to take the couple to dinner that night. Rosie's mom informed them of this, and then followed Rosie back into her room to help her get redressed.  
Marco took a seat on the couch, a few feet away from Rosie's father, and waiting for the two women to return.  
"So," The man spoke up after several minutes, "How did you two, uh, get together?" He questioned, his voice was gruff, but with a definite undertone of awkwardness.  
Marco froze. He couldn't exactly tell the man that he'd had a one night stand with his only daughter, could he? No, of course not. That would definitely get him killed. "Well, we worked the truckline together a lot, like she said earlier, and we just, uhm, got to know each other like that." He answered vaguely. It wasn't a lie, not the entire truth, but not a lie either.  
Jerry nodded, seeming to consider his answer, before turning back towards the television, where the History Channel was playing. Marco turned his attention to it, too, hoping for no more questions. He just wanted them to like him.

After several more minutes of conspiracy theories and factlets Marco was sure he'd never find a useful reason for knowing, Mrs. Brennan emerged, with Rosie in tow. Her mother was smiling as Marco's eyes lit up, taking her in. Her bangs were pulled back away from her face, and she was wearing a short brown dress with an emperial waist that fell in just the right way so as to make her look as if she weren't quite so pregnant. Her father turned around to look at her, telling her she looked beautiful.  
Rosie walked over to Marco, clearly embarrassed by being turned into the center of attention. He stood up, sliding his hands over her belly before wrapping them around her back and pulling her into a hug. He kissed her cheek, then told her she was gorgeous. She smiled bashfully, elbowing him in the ribs. "Stop being so sappy." She teased.

Later that night, after dinner, everyone had changed into her pajamas and the four were lounging in the living room. Rosie was curled up beside Marco, her father in his recliner and her mother on the floor at his feet. Rosie's parents were telling stories about when Rosie was a baby, and Marco was thoroughly amused. He and her dad had warmed up to each other after dinner, once her dad realized he was decent guy, and Marco thought he probably wouldn't try to kill him in his sleep. Rosie was glad to see them getting along, and they both knew it meant a lot to her.

As they were winding down, and everyone was getting tired, they all split off into their rooms. Marco was told he'd be taking the guest bedroom, and followed Rosie back to her room to grab some things out of his bag.  
Rosie was just walking over to her bed, when she felt a pair of hands on her hips. Marco pulled her back against him, dropping kisses along her neck and shoulder. She laughed lightly, craning her neck to look at him. "Goodnight, Marco." She said as she accepted his gentle peck on her lips, smiling at him as he exited the room.

She laid down, feeling exhausted, but found that she couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned for a half hour before getting up and walking to the kitchen to find something to drink.

Peeking her head into the living room, she saw that her mother was sitting on the couch, watching an old sitcom. She padded over in her socks, taking a seat on the opposite side of the couch, "Mind if I join you?"

They sat in silence for a few minutes, before her mother spoke up, her tone was serious. "So, how are you really handling this, Rosie?"  
Rosie cocked her head to the side ever so slightly, "What do you mean?"  
"With the baby and all. I mean, I know this wasn't your plan. How are you handling everything?" Her expression was somber, almost worried.

Rosie took a moment to consider what her mother was asking. In truth, she wasn't quite sure how she was handling it. Just taking it one day at a time.  
"Well, I guess I'm just handling it. There's no changing it, not now, so I'm just dealing." Please with her answer, Rosie looked up at her mom, who looked as if she were waiting for her to continue.  
"I'm excited," She added, "I can't wait to meet her, and hold her." Subconciously, her hands moved to rest on her stomach. "But, I'm scared sometimes, too. I'm still kind of just a kid myself, and I don't know how I'm going to handle her once she's here. I don't really know if I can do it." She had staring at her hands now, watching as the thumbs rubbed over the thin fabric of the shirt covering her belly.  
"But you've got Marco," Her mother pointed out, "You're lucky he's here."  
Rosie nodded, knowing she had a very valid point. Sure, the idea of raising a kid might be scary as hell, but at least she wouldn't have to do it alone.

"I know. But even then, I don't know if we can do this." She swiped at the tears threatening to spill over her eyelids. "I don't think we're ready. This baby's gonna be here in less than three months, and we can't even agree on a name for her. And God, what about when I go into labor? I don't think I can stand that kind of pain, Mom. I'm scared as hell."  
The older woman's eyes softened at her daughter. It wasn't often that Rosie admitted she was scared of anything at all. She moved closer to the young girl, pushing her hair away from her face. "You'll be a great mom, Rosie. I know it's scary, but it's worth it. Hell, I was terrified when I was pregnant with you. But look at you, you turned out pretty damn good." She offered a sincere smile, and Rosie laughed dryly. "Yeah, pregnant at twenty-five by a one night stand, and pretty much falling apart on my parent's couch. I'm as great as they come." Another tear rolled down her cheek and she didn't even bother to try and catch it this time.  
Her mother held open her arms, and Rosie didn't hesitate to lean into them, resting her head on her mom's shoulder like she used to when she was a kid.

**You guys can all thank my lovely reviewer CAS for the idea for this chapter(: (Hope I did it justice!)**


	4. Chapter 4

Several hours after her near breakdown with her mother, Rosie was awoken by the sunlight streaming down on her from the windows in her parent's living room. From what she remembers of the night before, she fell asleep crying quietly on her mother's shoulder. Squinting in the bright light, she realized her mom was nowhere to be seen. The petite brunette was sprawled out on the overstuffed couch, an old quilt spread out over her body. For several minutes, she only laid there, burrowing further into the comfort of the cushions. Deciding against getting up just yet, she reached for the television remote, channel surfing before deciding on an early morning crime special, then dropping the volume down low so as not to disturb anyone else in the house.

Twenty minutes of murders later, she was dozing again. When her eyes fluttered open a short time later, the first thing she registered was a figure at the other end of the couch. As her vision came into focus, a small smile graced her features. The young man sat a short distance from her, eyes locked on the television, though his mind seemed to be on other things. His fingers were absentmindedly brushing over her feet, as he had apparently pulled them onto his lap in order to sit down.  
She didn't say anything for several moments, knowing he thought she was still asleep. Taking in his tanned skin, the way his blue eyes stared intently at what exactly, she didn't know. She wondered what was going on in his mind right then. He seemed to be deep in throught, his brow was slightly furrowed and he was chewing on his lower lip. Whatever was dominating his thoughts so intensely in that moment, she felt the need to be privy to it. Yet, something stopped her from calling his attention to her, asking what was up.

_He's probably just ready to get out of here_, she thought, even though he'd seemed fine the night before.

Not letting herself dwell on it, she resigned to turning her attention back to the investigation currently playing out on the screen across the room. She must have moved or done something to cause him to look over at her, because within a few seconds he spoke up.  
"Oh, hey. You're awake," His voice was as blank and emotionless as his face. Rosie gave him a questioning look, wracking her brain to figure out what had happened in just those few hours.

"Yeah... You okay, Marco?" She studied him, looking for a response, but he gave no reply, only an expressionless gaze. "It's just, you seem kind of down and out. What's wrong?"  
He shook his head, offering up a quiet "It's nothing,"

Rosie took that as her que to drop the conversation, hoping that maybe he'd talk about it later.

They didn't have chance to talk again until they were in the car on the way home. To Rosie's dismay, Marco was still just as distant as he had been earlier; all day, really. She made several attempts at conversation, commenting on little things that had happened over the weekend, like how the whole restraunt had gotten a laugh when her father had slipped and thrown a plate of spaghetti across the room during dinner Friday night. After an hour, she'd still not gotten more than a glance, a forced smile and a 'yeah'.

Truthfully, Rosie would admit that she'd had a good time. She'd enjoyed seeing her parents, and finally letting them get to know Marco a bit. It had been a good way to spend her weekend.  
Still, she was worried about Marco. He'd been just as distant all day as he had been that morning, and it troubled her. Was he having second thoughts about the baby? Did being around her family cause him to realize what parenthood would bring in just a few short months, and was that too much for him? It was too late for her to go back now, but Marco, though she didn't truly believe he would, coud still walk away from this.

Forcing the thought from her mind, she reached out to take his hand. She couldn't help but notice the quick twitch of his facial features, into something pained and upset, then back to his blank expression again. Her fingers wrapped around her's and held them gently, in a somehow not-Marco way that Rosie could only describe as sad. He was warring with something, and she couldn't stand not knowing what it was. He'd been there for her when she'd had her mini-breakdowns over the past months, and she felt the need to be there for him now, with this; whatever it was.

Scooting herself closer to him, as close as she could within the confines of the car seat, she nuzzled his arm with her face, sighing when he gave no response at all.

"Marco," Her voice was exhausted and defeated, almost desperate.  
"Hmm?" His eyes stayed fixed on the road, but now he leaned his head against her's, offering her some sense of comfort.  
"Just... Can you please tell me what's wrong?" She was almost pouting, and then her features turned defiant. "And don't say it's nothing because we both know damn well something's bugging you."

Marco sighed, tracing the pad of his thumb over the back of her hand. "Can we... We'll talk about it later, okay? Let's just get home first." Letting go of her hand, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, letting her settle against him.  
"Yeah... Okay." Rosie nodded slightly, resting her head against his shoulder, not missing the lingering undertone of sadness in his voice. She kissed his cheek, and soon found herself dozing off to the soothing sounds coming from the radio.

It's when they're lounging on their couch later that night, that the subject is breeched again. But this time, it's not Rosie that brings it up. It's Marco.

They're lazing around before bed, watching bad reality television, when he says something that catches Rosie completely by surpise.  
"Did you mean it?" His eyes are fixed on a spot above the TV, staring intently at the wall. He's trying to keep his emotions in check, but the pain that rings through in his voice is just as clearly painted across his features.  
"Mean what?" Rosie asks. Her mind races with a million different things he could be asking about.  
He drops his gaze now, down to his hands, avoiding meeting her eyes as she tries desperately read him. He's always such an open book to her. "What you said to your mom. Friday night."  
A quiet gasp escaped Rosie's lips as her words replayed in her head; _I don't know if we can do this, I don't think we're ready, we can't even agree on a name._ Words that were uttered in confidence, in the dark of night, where it was somehow okay to be scared and to admit it, only the soft glow from the television illuminating her features.  
"How.. How did you know what I said to her?"  
Still never lifting his gaze, he fidgeted with his thumbs in his lap, trying to do anything but make eye contact.  
"I couldn't sleep, got up to see if you were still awake, and you weren't in your room. I walked into the kitchen, then I heard you taking to your mom in the living room..." He paused, and she wasn't sure if he was gathering his thoughts or waiting for her to repsond. "You really don't think we can do this? Why didn't you tell me?"  
Now, he did meet her gaze. The chilling intensity of hurt in his blue eyes was enough to cause tears to spring to Rosie's.  
"I didn't- I wasn't..." Forcing out a breath, Rosie tried to remain calm. "I just get scared sometimes, Marco. I've never done this before, I'm not the kind of person who can just jump into something and have full faith in that I'll be safe when I hit the bottom. Maybe you can, but I just can't. It's not easy for me to wake up everyday and see this huge belly be okay with it. I'm young, I'm still just a kid, but in a few months I'm going to have to be a mother. That's not easy for me!" She was raising her voice now, and her eyes were glassed over with tears that didn't dare spill over onto her cheeks.  
"I didn't tell you because I knew you'd be hurt. You're doing everything you can for me, but-"  
"But it's just not enough." He cut her off, the unspoken words being all her could hear. "Whatever I do, it's just not enough. Because no matter what, there's going be a part of you that blames me for this, right?" His voice was steady and calm, but colder than Rosie had ever heard it. "I'm the one that had to trick you into sitting with me that night, the one that had to kiss you, had to push for more."  
"No, Marco! That's not what I-"  
"_I'm_ the one that screwed up the most here, right? But you know what else, Rosie? I could've walked away, and I didn't. I owned up to it, because I wasn't going to let you do this alone. I gave up _everything_ for you and this baby, and you still don't think we can do this? It's still not enough to prove to you that we can handle this."  
Rosie didn't even try to defend herself anymore. She only sat at the other end of the couch, her knees pulled up to her chest and tears steadily falling down her cheeks. She was curled away from him, almost defensively, as it she feared he might lash out and hit her any moment now. Any other time, the sight of her so scared and hurt would break his heart. Any other time, he would be by her side to comfort her within a nanosecond. But right now, he didn't care.

Getting to his feet, he sent an icy look her way. "I'm done, Rosie. I tried, and obviously I couldn't do it."  
Rosie shook her head fiercely, a muffled "No!" breaking through her hushed sobs. Reaching out in a weak attempt to keep him there, she grasped at his wrist, holding on as tightly as she could manage. "Please, Marco. I can't do this."  
Glancing down at her hand, he met her eyes again, a pained look suddenly washing over him, only to be replaced by the same anger, disappearing just as quickly as it had come. Shaking his wrist loose of her hold, he marched across through the small kitchen, and out the door.

**Super sorry this chapter took so long! I got stuck. But it's up now, so yayyy! I think...**

**Anyways, please don't hate me for this. Lol. This is where I've had it going since the beginning, and truth be told, I'm kind of nervous posting this chapter. I've got two, maybe three, more chapters until the end, so hang in there! (:**


	5. Chapter 5

She wasn't sure that she'd ever get used to it; waking up alone. The bed they'd shared had not been a large one, but it seemed as vast and empty as the sky when she was the only one occupying it.  
In fact, the whole apartment seemed increasingly empty with every day, hour, minute that passed. She's boxed up his things shortly after he'd left, placed them outside the door and they'd been gone the next day, but there were still subtle (and not-so-subtle) reminds of him nearly everywhere she looked.  
The bacon still in the fridge, the stray t-shirt tucked away, hidden by her pajamas, the smell of his cologne and body wash that she would swear still lingered on his pillow.

Oh, yeah. And the child still steadily growing inside of her. That was that, too.

That was the thing; even when everything around her, her entire life, came to a screeching halt, even when her world was in shambles, this part of her life simple didn't stop. She couldn't put it on pause just long enough to catch her breath and rewrite her plan. Regardless of what was happening around her, this baby was still going to be here in just over a month. And she was in no way prepared to take it on alone.

Sighing, Rosie pressed herself further into the nest of blankets and pillows surrounding her.

She wondered if Marco hated waking up alone as much as she did.  
Probably not.

But then again, he probably wasn't waking up alone. He was probably opening his eyes to a gorgeous blonde without a baby bump and stretch marks. Or a dazzling redhead that didn't wear maternity clothes. Or maybe even a cute brunette with blue eyes and pale skin. Her perfect replacement.  
Maybe every now and then he pretended it was her he was kissing, instead of the other girl. Maybe he saw her when he looked into the other girl's eyes. Maybe he thought of her when he fell asleep with his fingers knotted in blonde, not brown, hair; his lips still teasing her much too dark skin.

_Stop that_, Rosie chided herself. She knew what this kind of thinking led to. Follow that train of thought long enough, and she's back to hoping he'll come back. That she'll open the door and he'll be waiting for her. That maybe he'll call and say he's sorry, that he misses her and he's coming home.

She's long since given that up. After he walked out, she'd sat on the couch, frozen, for several minutes, praying to whoever might be listening that he'd walk right back through that door and hold her, a thousand hushed apologies escaping their lips. Or that she'd blink and he'd be sitting beside her, obliviously watching the television, all of this just a startlingly vivid nightmare.  
But no, he didn't come back. And no matter how many times she opened and closed her eyes, he never appeared in front of her.

She had cried. Painful sobs ripping through her petite body. Her head in her hands, knees pulled as close to her chest as she could get them. Her whole body had wracked as she screamed at herself, her stupidity.  
How long this went on, she didn't know exactly. It could have been mere minutes, it could've been hours.

She cried and cried until her tears were gone and her energy decimated.  
Then, Rosie Brennan had done what she does best. She'd wiped her eyes, and begun to pick up the pieces.

If Rosie's morning had been hard, Marco's was plain painful.

Every morning, he awoke more exhausted than he had been the night before, and hoping dearly that it was all just a nightmare. A terrible, heartbreaking, incredibly real nightmare.  
Every morning, with only air sliding between his grasping fingers, he was proven wrong.

He regretted it. More than he'd ever regretted anything. He never should have even thought about walking away; Rosie needed him. And yet, something stopped him from going back to her. Pride, fear, or maybe the thought that she'll have moved on, the fear that she'd send him away.

She carried the strain of it around with him like a weight on his shoulders. It took over his mind and clouded his thoughts like a drug; wrapped around him like a vice. Everywhere he looked, he saw her face. Her dark curls, her blue-grey eyes, her porcelain skin. Every time he saw a pregnant woman, his heart both leapt in his chest and dropped to his gut.

Maybe in the end, what weighed on him the most was that in less than five short weeks, a child, his baby girl, was going to come into this world without a daddy.

Which posed another problem. It felt dirty to leave Rosie with the baby. But it wasn't like he could go back, right? It had been too long. He should've turned around before he even made it to the door. He'd been gone almost two months now. Rosie was probably just starting to work herself into a new routine, slowly starting to fill in the gaps he'd left.  
Plus, there was no way any woman in their right mind, certainly not Rosie, would let him back into their life after he so carelessly walked away.

He'd fallen in love with her over these past months. And if he was honest, he'd fallen in love with their child as well. In the beginning, the idea of being a father had scared the hell out of him. But as he got used to the thought of it, it became something he looked forward to. The thought of holding his baby girl still send his heart leaping in his chest. Now, though, he was afraid he'd never get the chance to be a part of her life. It didn't seem fair to her, or to Rosie, to drag her through a child with seperated parents. Weekends and holidays divided up, constant skipping around from mom to dad. He couldn't do that to his baby girl.

So maybe it was that thought, or maybe it was the piccture in his head of what that tiny girl might look like the first time he held her, or maybe it was just the image of a very pregnant Rosie curled up and crying on their couch, trying her hardest to hide herself from his; more terrified than he'd ever seen her.  
Maybe it was a mix of all those images racing through his mind that sent him out his door that morning.

He wasn't surprised to find himself standing in front of Rosie's door ten minutes later.  
She was still staying in their apartment, as it wasn't fair to move back in with her friends, subjecting them to countless wake up calls in the dead of night because of a crying child.  
He stood in front of the door for several minutes, all the nerve he'd mustered up on his way over was gone, and it was a long time before he finally knocked.

**Short chapter! I had intended to write more, but then I re-read it and decided I'd just post it as is, and pick up right where I left off in the next chapter(:  
Reviews are appreciated and strongly encouraged (;**


	6. Chapter 6

Rosie was just making breakfast when she heard a knock on her door. Tossing a _'Just a sec!' _over her shoulder, she rinsed her hands, towel dried them and walked across the small room.  
Unhinging the lock and swinging the door back, her heart skipped a beat at the boy standing in front of her.

"Uhm, Marco..?" She said, confusion knitted through her furrowed brows. What was he doing here?  
For several minutes, he didn't say a word; only stared right at her, seemingly at a loss for words.

"Do you... Do you want to come in?" Rosie asked, trying to find some way to squelch the awkward tension in the air.  
"Uh, yeah, actually." A forced, nervous laugh escaped the smile that was now painted a little too widely across his lips, as he stepped through the doorway and into the kitchen.

Looking around, the apartment didn't seem all that different from when he left. Rosie hadn't moved the couch or rearranged the small dining room, though he hadn't really expected that. He just thought the place would look... different. Lonelier, with only one person inhabiting it, instead of two.

Returning his gaze to Rosie, who was anxiously standing a few feet away from him, he was almost taken aback at the size of her belly. It had been almost two months since he'd last seen her, and neither of them had thought that, even then, she'd get much bigger. He didn't see how her tiny frame could handle it. But here she was, standing in front of him, noticeably larger than she had been. Babies are so tiny, how is it that this one child could take up so much room?

Rosie shifted her weight on her feet, smiling nervously at him, having taken notice to his imploring gaze over her midsection, but choosing not to address it.  
"So," She said in an unsure voice, drawing out the one tiny syllable, wringing her hands in front of him. "Uhm, do you want breakfast?" Motioning towards the kitchen, she realized that she should probably be angry at him, she had the right to that, but she couldn't quite bring herself to push him away.

"Yeah, sure. That'd be nice." He smiled, nodding lightly, hardly missing a beat.

He followed her into the kitchen, trailing her at a safe distance, only watching as she took a plate from the cabinet and handed it over. It struck him that he could've easily gotten the plate himself, this was _his_ apartment, at least it had been, he had lived here for several months. Everything was still in the same place, but somehow it felt wrong, like he might be intruding, to do so. She had very carefully recrafted this world around herself, using little more than a brittle layer of paper mache to fill in the gaps he left, and he wanted nothing less than to disrupt that. He wanted, _needed_, to live in this world with her again, but if she was better off without him, then so be it. He would do whatever was best for her and thier child.

"So... How- how have you been?" He asked as he sat his plate on the counter, pulling up a stool to sit on.  
For the smallest fraction of a second, something flashed over her features. Almost a grimace, like he had accidentally brushed against a wound she'd forgotten was there. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced again by the polite smile she'd been wearing since he arrived.  
He wasn't used to this anymore, her covering up in front of him. It had been so long since she'd hidden anything from him, and it took him a moment remember again that things weren't the same. She wasn't _his_ Rosie anymore.

"I've been good," She nodded a little too enthusiastically, as if she were trying to cover up the uncertainty in her eyes that Marco couldn't help but notice. "It hasn't been _easy_, but I'm getting along." Pushing her food around with her fork, she made a point of not meeting his eyes. She missed him. But for some reason, she knew she wasn't allowed to say that. She was a strong girl, things like this didn't bother her. They'd only been together a few months, and really, it was only because she'd gotten pregnant and he didn't want the guilt of leaving her behind. They were never a real couple, they never went on dates, never did things that couples do. They were just two kids stuck in the delusion that this baby could hold them together. It shouldn't have surprised her when they fell apart, she could hardly keep herself together.  
No. It didn't bother her. She didn't miss him, she missed who she thought he was. The Marco she knew would have never left her to do this alone. (_But the Marco he was wouldn't have come back to be sitting in front of her now, would he?_)

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she sat down her fork and rested her hand over her belly. The baby had been kicking a lot recently, and she was surprised to find that she hadn't felt a thing since Marco had arrived.  
"Have you decided on a name yet?" Marco asked over a mouthful of egg. She smiled, shrugging her shoulders while never discontinuing the soft soothing circles her hand was drawing over her belly now. "I've thumbed through that book at least a dozen times, but nothing really sticks out." He nodded, and she laughed gently, her gaze falling to land somewhere in the space between the two of them. "My mom wants me to name her after my grandma," He raised his eyebrows, silently questioning her. "Gertrude." Rosie spoke, "Granny's name was Gertrude. I loved her, but something tells me she wouldn't want that named passed on." She laughed again, "Mom says we can call her Gertie." Marco let out a chuckle at that, but didn't say anything else.

After a few moments, Rosie picked up her plate and headed into the kitchen to put in it the sink, and Marco followed suit a few seconds later.

Turning the corner into the small space, he found Rosie standing in front of the sink, arms braced against the wooden countertop. Her shoulders were slumped, and she hung her head. Even from behind, Marco couldn't help but think how defeated she looked.  
"Hey, you okay, Ro?" He asked, reducing her name to single gentle syllable. She flinched slightly, as if she hadn't heard him come in and he'd startled her. Bringing a hand to her face, he heard her sniffle before she answered him with a shaky "Yeah, I'm fine."  
After a few more seconds had passed and she still hadn't turned to face him, Marco cautiously stepped towards her, lifting a hand to rest of her shoulder. "You sure you're okay?" His voice was soft, not unlike the tone he'd used with her many, many times in the months before, when he'd find her crying on the bathroom floor or curled up outside her closet door, angry at everything. Instinctively, she leaned into his touch, her only thought being how nice it was to feel his skin against her's again, even if it was only in this small gesture of comfort.  
Shaking her head almost imperceptively, she whispered a tiny "No,". A moment later, she finally turned to him, her eyes glossed over and watery with tears as she repeated herself, louder this time. "No."

With hardly a second's thought, Marco found himself holding her against him less than a moment later, his arms holding tight to her as if he feared she'd disappear. She cried into his shirt and he whispered all the things he'd wanted to say since abandoning her. Countless apologies, a thousand 'I love you's, and conviction-laced promises to always stand by her.

They stood like that for a long time, a broken mess of a couple slowly forging themselves back together. Rosie clung to him tighter than he ever remembered, her desperate fingertips holding fast to him as sob after sob ripped through her body. Even after she'd calmed down, she let herself remain in his embrace, let her head nestle itself in the crook of his neck, let his hand continue rubbing their soothing circles on her back. She didn't pull away when she felt his lips press against her hair not once, not twice, but three times as he murmured again how sorry he was. He didn't flinch when, instead of voicing her reply, Rosie pressed a kiss against his neck, nodding that it was okay, she understood.


	7. Chapter 7

"Marco."

"Marco."

"Dammit, _Marco_."

Rosie glanced at the clock, 2:38 am, and turned herself around to throw a pillow at the boy _still_ sleeping beside her. The pillow halted to a stop on his face and made a dull _thud_ noise, and she rolled her eyes as he groaned something unintelligible.

"Marco. Wake up." She said, calm but growing irritated.  
"Ugh, no. Why?" Rolling over to put his back to her, Marco covered his head with the pillow she'd thrown at him.  
"My water just broke. Get up."  
After a short moment where Rosie allowed him to register what she'd just said, Marco shot up out of the bed, suddenly very aware. He turned to her, seemingly at a loss of what to do.  
"I'm gonna go change," She said slowly, as if she were speaking to a small child. "You grab my bag and call the hospital, and I'll be out in a second, okay?" He nodded along with her words, slowly willing himself to wrap his mind around the bone-rattling shock he was feeling, even having known this moment was coming for a long time.

Rosie shuffled out of the bed and into the bathroom to change her clothes, just as she'd said, and Marco took a moment before slowly forcing his body to move around the apartment, shrugging on a pair of jeans, grabbing her bag and calling the hospital while he waited at the door. Not long after, Rosie appeared beside him and shot him an odd look. His expression was dumbfounded and while she could understand why, she didn't think this would be the way he reacted. He had put so much effort into preparing himself in the past weeks, and she assumed he would have been put-together when the actual moment came.

Leading her out the door, he seemed to almost panic when she stopped in the middle of the walkway and clutched her belly, a grimace painfully stretched across her face. But after a few seconds, she took a deep breath, mumbled something that sounded like 'oh, good. Contractions. Didn't think they were supposed to start yet.' and carefully made her way to the car.

It was a twenty minute drive to the hospital, and Marco's hands were shaking the entire time. Rosie reached over to still them, but it did nothing to help him when another contraction hit her in the same moment. _Were they supposed to be coming this fast already?_ she wondered. She knew for some women that there was only a very short time between their water breaking and giving birth, but she'd assumed she'd have more time in between, this being her first child. Her heart raced as her thoughts caught up with her, and she began to panic just a little bit. Was she ready for this? This was what she'd been both excited for and dreading over the past months, but now that it was here, she was only scared. What if something went wrong? What if they didn't make it to the hospital? And _damn_, was she just imagining it or were her contractions coming faster and stronger?

She counted the minutes, her first contraction had been on the walkway, the next one eight or nine minutes down the road. Timing this one, she only counted six minutes. Willing the car to go faster, she clutched the armrest, digging her nails into the faux-leather. Steeling a glance at Marco, she saw her panic reflected in his eyes. Glancing at her, he pressed the accelerator just slightly more. "You okay, Ro?"  
"Mhmm," She said through gritted teeth as the pain subsided.  
"We'll be there in just a few minutes. It'll be okay." This time it was his hand that reached out to grasp hers, and she gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Two contractions and three seemingly eternal red lights later, Marco pulled into the hospital parking lot and helped Rosie to make her way into the building. They were met by a nurse, who offered her a wheelchair to sit in, and listened as Marco explained they were pre-registered, then showed them to room.  
Helping Rosie into the bed, the nurse asked all the standard questions, how far apart were the contractions, did she want an epidural, etcetera. Rosie answered them all as best she could, gripping Marco's hand as an exceptionally painful contraction tore through her abdomen.

After the nurse left to get the doctor on call, Rosie looked over at Marco, fear present in her cloudy blue eyes. "I'm not ready for this." She said simply.  
Massaging the pad of his thumb over her knuckles, he smiled softly, somehow surprisingly calm. "Yeah, you are. You're just a little scared." Gently squeezing her hand, then lifting it to press his lips to the back of her palm, he repeated his words from ealier, "It'll be okay."  
Still not entirely convinced, Rosie bit bottom lip, unsure.

***

"Okay, Miss Brennan, I'm going to need you to push now." Rosie nodded, digging her nails painfully into Marco's hand, but he didn't care. Groaning, she gave it her all. It was a mere thirty minutes since she'd arrived at the hospital, and she couldn't believe how fast this was all happening. After a few seconds, she sighed and stopped to catch her breath, listening to the doctor's instructions.  
"Okay, just one more big push, Miss Brennan." Nodding again, Rosie too a deep breath and pushed as hard as she could, letting out a muffled scream in the process. It had all happened to fast for the epidural, and this was a pain unlike anything she'd ever experienced.

A moment later, she felt the doctor pat her leg. "It's a girl" The older woman said, handing the child off to a nurse to be cleaned up. She smiled at Rosie, "Good job, Miss Brennan."  
Rosie turned to look at Marco, who was beaming at her. Leaning in to press a light kiss to her lips, he trailed a thumb along her face. "You did good, baby."

Within seconds, Rosie heard the nurse call for Marco, and laid back against her pillow to try and let her breathing return to normal.

Marco returned to her beside shortly, bending down to show her the tiny baby, all bundled up in a soft pink blanket, cradled in his arms. She reached for the child, settling her against her chest. Looking down at her, Rosie stared in awe. Trailing a gentle finger from the grown of her head to the impossibly small fingers that grasped her own, she couldn't fight the smile stretching across her lips. She felt the pressure of Marco's arm around her shoulders, and looked up at him with glassy eyes.

"She's beautiful."

"Alright, Mommy, are you sure you're ready to go in?" Rosie smiled brightly at Marco, despite the camera in his hands aimed at her. Removing their little girl from her carseat, she cradled the infant against her chest and turned towards the apartment, where her mother, along with most of her friends were waiting inside.  
"Yes!" She said happily, glad to be back home after days in the hospital.  
"What about you, Avery?" He questioned, maneuvering the camera closer to the tiny girl, who was currently sleeping. Rosie giggled at him, and accepted his kiss as he led them towards the door.

**a/n: I'm really **_**so**_** sorry that not only did it take me forever to post this, but it's really short and just not all that great. My mind has been on other things lately and I've just been out of inspiration for this! **

**That being said, this **_**is**_** the last chapter (if I ever get over this writer's block, I may do a follow-up or an epilogue sometime in the future, but don't hold your breath on it). I would like to say thank you to everyone who had read, reviewed, favorited, or followed this story, I probably would've abandoned this after the first chapter if not for you guys. Thank you(:**

**xx,**

**Cat**


End file.
